


hesitant heroes: the sniperpilot collection

by cassandor



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-11-09 10:36:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11102802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandor/pseuds/cassandor
Summary: prompt fills that aren't part of a series! (each chapter is independent)





	1. unparalleled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 1: laughter
> 
> also because every time diego luna smiles it adds 10 years to my life

The only thing that could spread more quickly than a virus through the young recurits of the Rebellion was a rumor.

And there were plenty of those. 

_“The Princess has a comlink on her at all times, she hides them in her buns.”  
_

_“It’s so she can call up Solo whenever she wants to yell at him.”  
_

_“They’re probably sleeping together.”_

_“I heard the Wookie tore off the arm of the last person who said that, so be careful.”_

One such rumor of course, was that Captain Andor never smiled. As it was with the legends of the Rebellion, there were many versions of the story. But all of them boiled down to this:

If you ever saw him smile, you were either the luckiest person in the galaxy, or the most unfortunate. 

That was, before Bodhi Rook came along.

* * *

See, the pilot was a living legend. Not for flying Rogue One out of Scarif - though that was pretty cool - but for his charisma.

The newest recurits flocked to him, held rapt by the stories and jokes told by the cargo pilot from Jedha. 

“So did you _really_  use to work for the Empire? Does the Emperor really smell like bantha poodoo?”

“Dude, nobody says poodoo anymore. You sound like, five.” 

But the pilot would laugh and reply likewise.

“I never met him, but a friend did and he said he smelt like rotten durang fruit.”

The recruits would laugh, and he would laugh, and their laughter would echo across the walls of Base One. 

And if you were paying attention, you could see Cassian Andor smiling. 

* * *

Even the most oblivious of recruits began to take notice. It became a game, who would spot it first. 

At mealtimes in the mess, all eyes shiftily glanced over at the Captain, waiting, waiting, waiting, 

“There he _isssss!”_

And Bodhi would walk in the doorway, shooting a smile and a wave in their direction. 

 _“Shhhusssh_  dude, don’t be so obviously, you’re going to spook them.”

The recruits wave back. 

“Us. Spook _them_?” 

“Look, we missed it.” 

Cassian’s eyes lock with Bodhi’s, and he grins. 

“He’s so _in loveeeee_. You could draw little hearts around his head.” 

“Uh, no, they’re just friends.”

“Are you _blind?_ Look at them! I’d like to see you try and get him to smile for _you_  like that.” 

Of course, that became a game too. Who could get Cassian to smile?

And the answer was always, always, always: Bodhi. 

* * *

But then, they started seeing him smile more often.

“I heard Draven spat out a mouthful of caf this morning because Andor grinned at him during a briefing.”

“Oh, stars, they’re dating.”

“Who? _Draven and Andor?_ ” 

“ _Fark_ , no, Rook and Andor. Notice how touchy-feely they are these days?”

“They hugged, like, twice.”

“Have you _seen_  Andor hug _anyone_  before?”

“No.”

“Exactly.” 

“Gods, what has he become?” 

“What has who become?”

The recruits jump. It’s Cassian and Bodhi.

“Uh, um, hi sir, uh, sirs, we were just-”

“Are you guys _dating_?” 

Bodhi turns uncharacteristically red. Cassian laughs, a melodious laugh that saves the recruit who blurted the question from getting smacked by another.

“Is that what you all have been whispering about these days?” Cassian grins, lacing his fingers with Bodhi’s. 

“Uhhh, ye-n-no, sir. No, I mea-” 

Cassian gives Bodhi’s hand a squeeze. “Get back to your bunks, kids.”

They’re about to hightail it back when he adds: “and the answer is yes.” 

* * *

Rumors, being rumors, change all the time.  One such rumor of course, was that Captain Andor never smiled. As it was with the legends of the Rebellion, there were many versions of the story. But all of them boiled down to this:

He never smiled until Bodhi Rook came along. And then he laughed. 


	2. between here and there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 2: after endor
> 
> Probably my favourite time period in the star wars timeline: the blurred line between rebels and republic; war and peace. A time I love to come back to for r1 fic, but I’ve never done it with these two. so, here were are.

Then: The Emperor’s shadow loomed over them.

Now: The Death Star explodes like fireworks across the sky.

Then: He couldn’t afford to wait.

Now: He waits. Cassian waits for the Fleet to join them in the celebrations. He waits for the ships to land, after-flight checks rushed over as a swarm of Rebels descended upon them, ready to hug and cry and cheer the night away. 

He waits. Jyn raises an eyebrow at him and he doesn’t say anything in return, only nods as she picks her way between fallen branches, an earthen cup clutched precariously in her hand, its alien contents sloshing up over the edges. 

He waits _here,_  which is somewhere away from the main bonfire and the rowdy crowd that jostled him as he made his way out into a clearing, where the stars shone bright in the gaps between trees.  

Then he spots him, a bright orange that drifts away from the excited group of X-Wing pilots, making his unsteady way into the thick of the celebrations. 

Cassian could’ve waited for Bodhi to spot him. But he doesn’t: in leaps and bounds soon he’s _there_  and they’re _here,_ and the lines between them blur.

“Finally,” Bodhi says into his chest. 

“The war or us?”

“Both.”

* * *

Then: The Rebellion’s most well known not-officially-a-couple-but-they’re-a-kriffing-couple couple _._

Now: Husband and wife.

Cassian smiles broadly, more than when the Death Star exploded - because _there_  he was alone and bloody in the thick of battle and _here_  he is happy with Bodhi at his side - at the girl he’d watched grow up into a fiery young woman. A bride, now, dressed in a flowing gown stitched together by Ewoks working by torchlight. 

He doesn’t say _take care of her_ , he actually says, “Don’t get on her bad side, she’ll kill you before I have the chance to intervene,” and Han grins and pats his back, says _I know_ with a wink at Leia before the newlyweds make their way through the rest of the congratulatory crowd. 

Which leaves him here with Bodhi.

“Who would’ve thought?” he wonders aloud, mostly to himself.

“Marriage or _their_  marriage?” Bodhi asks. Cassian turns to look at him, a little surprised by the question, and catches the mysterious twinkle in his eye. 

“Marriage,” he says, watching Leia and Han weave their way around their closest friends, the word unfamiliar in his mouth. “Marriage,” he repeats, thinking of Jeron and Esper Andor, and a familiarity washes over him. “A new life,” he adds by way of explanation, remembering the dayblooms of Fest, whiter than the gown Leia is wearing. 

Bodhi squeezes his hand. “It’s what you wanted others to have. And now you can have one too.” 

Cassian meets those bright eyes with his. “I already do.” 

* * *

Then: The Empire fell.

Now: The New Republic will rise.

Then: Rebel Intelligence officer. Spy. Assassin. Murderer. Soldier. Hero.

Now: ….. Cassian isn’t quite sure, but eventually someone slaving away in an office on Nakadia will give his new job a title. He’s content with whatever Bodhi calls him now. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt 3: photo  
> "things you said with too many miles between us" - requested for sniperpilot

_**figurative miles** _

”Do you…” Bodhi wets his lips. “Do you have any holos of your family, Cass?” 

Cassian looks up from where he is hunched over his datapad, at the night sky above them. Memories flash through his mind, as numerous as the stars above, and he prays for strength. 

He sets the datapad down, sensing Bodhi’s attempt to open up a necessary - _necessary but not wanted_ \- conversation. 

“One.” 

“Oh.” Cassian’s eyes flicker to Bodhi, takes in the way he pointedly stares at his feet as they dangle over the rooftop of Base One. Cassian waits, but realizes Bodhi doesn’t want to press further.

Unwanted, but necessary. _For the both of them._ He bites back a sigh.

“Do you want to see it?” His hands drift to the ever-present weight in his pocket. 

Bodhi head snaps up to look at him, and Cassian marvels at the way his eyes sparkle in the dim light. “Ye-yes of course-if you want. If you want me to? If you’re comfortable with it?” He begins picking at the fraying edges of his long sleeves, gaze shifting back down to his hands. “I just…” 

“Do you have any holos of yours?” Cassian asks, the realization suddenly dawning on him.

Bodhi swallows, hard, and Cassian watches his hands curl into fists. 

“No.”

Cassian stares at him, hesitant to ask. His answer had would have been the same, a few years ago. But one mission to Fest had changed that. The single-image holoprojector in his pocket suddenly feels heavier with Bodhi’s burden. 

“I had a lot, actually.” Bodhi’s lips move, thoughts failing to form words, eyes fixed on his lap. “I did… but they were on my ship. Or at home. All on Jedha. And then- and then…” 

Cassian reaches out, then hesitates, afraid a single touch would shatter the man beside him into a thousand pieces. Instead, his hand moves back to his pocket. 

“Do you want to see mine?” he repeats, quieter this time. 

Bodhi’s gaze locks with his, and he nods.

And then both of their features - concerned and lost, sheepish and intrigued, equally reverent - are awash with artificial blue light.

The squeeze in Cassian’s heart never gets easier to handle. “Those are my parents. I think I’m about four,” he manages to say, eyes locked with the barely familiar faces. 

“I don’t remember my father,” Bodhi says. “He died fighting the Empire.” He blinks a few times, as if suddenly recognizing the faces in the wavering holo. “Not with Saw, he wasn’t established then. But…”

Cassian manages a small smile. “I guess our fathers had that in common, huh.”

Bodhi smiles back. Their world returns to darkness as the wavering image disappears, but they both feel a little lighter. 

* * *

 

**_literal miles_ **

Bodhi’s gaze is fixed on the holoimage hovering over his datapad, casting the controls of the ship in a blue light. 

“Be safe,” Cassian’s wavering holo says, “I miss you.” 

Bodhi’s hands run over the buttons, replaying the short message as the ship flits through hyperspace, inching farther and farther from home.

Home now meaning... Cassian.

It’s a thought he’s not quite used to but he smiles anyways - at the concern in Cassian’s eyes, undetectable to the casual viewer.  _Be safe. Come back to me._

Bodhi leans forward. “I will,” he whispers. 

The slight pause, a touch of hesitation spurred on by shyness. _I miss you_. 

“I miss you too,” Bodhi mouths, and the holo restarts. He’s grateful for the message, something about that night on the rooftop had changed both of them. Made them more receptive to each other, brought them closer. And now, weeks later, this: the glowing image in the palm of Bodhi’s hand. 

A promise that there was something to come back to, a tangible promise that Bodhi would never, ever, dare misplace. 

 _I miss you,_  Cassian repeats, and this time, Bodhi hears something else.

“I love you too,” Bodhi replies, and the holo flickers off. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "stargazing"

Bodhi assumes his only company is the consistent hum of the engines. He relaxes against the worn synthfabric of the pilot’s seat, curling up into himself as the pinpricks of stars blur into the familiar streaks of hyperspace.

It’s soothing and familiar.

His lips curl a little, caught in the gap between comfort and sleepiness, and he wonders if he should even bother turning on his holofeed.

“Hey.”

Cassian creeps up like a tooka-cat, a habit that pervades his muscles like blood, no doubt. He should’ve known but it spooks Bodhi nonetheless and he tries his best to tamper his reaction for Cassian’s sake.

It doesn’t really work, because Cassian reads facial expressions for a living.

Of course. 

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Cassian asks, fingers curling around the arm of Bodhi’s chair.

“I, uh, yeah. I mean,  _you’re_  not scary, I uh, just got spooked. Sorry. I’m just-”

“Sorry. I’ll be louder next time.”

“It’s, it’s okay,” Bodhi winces at the awkwardness of their conversation. He can see the same stress in the creases of Cassian’s brow, and marvels at just how  _bad_  the two of them are at, well, speaking. 

Which is rather unsual, actually. Bodhi was known to talk the ear off anyone he’d ever met, and Cassian used his skills at talking information out of even the least willing of targets.

But with each other… 

His lips twitch.

“I was just zoned out.” 

“Do you mind if I join you?” Cassian asks softly.

“No, not at all.”

Bodhi swivels in his seat to face Cassian, who quickly settles into the copilot’s seat.

A hush falls over the cockpit once again, and it is equally as comfortable and soothing as the first time. Bodhi doesn’t feel the need to fidget, or fill up the silence with forced conversation.

He glances over at Cassian, whose features are miraculously missing the blue hue of his datapad’s screen. He meets his gaze - brown eyes meet brown eyes, even for just a fleeting moment.

They glitter like stars. 

The urge to say  _something_  rises up in his throat. 

_This is nice._

_The quiet, with you._

_You’re nice._

Nothing seems to fit. Bodhi stifles a sigh, and his eyes track the moment of the ship among the stars.

“Pretty, don’t you think?” Cassian breathes.

“Yeah,” Bodhi replies, not sure exactly  _which_  thing was pretty. Cassian smiles anyways and the knot in his stomach loosens. Bodhi smiles back.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "bodhi is a (photo) foreign correspondant journalist and cassian is a member of an underground resistance movement calling for independence, which bodhi is trying to report on"

The gas stings his eyes and for the third time in twenty four hours Cassian wishes he had a proper mask. Instead, he tugs at the bandana tied around his mouth and ducks into an alleyway.

Of course the  _non violent_  protest had turned into chaos.

Of course. 

The alley is closed off enough that the smoke doesn’t filter through, and Cassian gasps for a breath of musty, but clean, air. 

“Oh, hello.”

He turns and is immediately faced with the lens end of a camera.

“Get that out of my face,” Cassian says, voice muffled by the cloth. “Please,” he adds.

“No problem.”

The camera drops out of the way and Cassian gets his first glimpse at the man behind it. The British accent, regrettably, evoked a certain expectation - 

but it did not match with what he sees now. 

Instead, Cassian is faced with a pair of bright brown eyes, slightly obscured by strands of dark hair and goggles pushed up on his forehead. 

“There’s nothing to worry about though, I’m sympathetic to your cause.”

“Really?” Cassian arches an eyebrow, voice dripping with suspicion. “And what cause is that?” 

“Independence. Freedom.” The man’s lips twitch. “You’re Festian. I’m from Jedha. That should be enough for you.”

 _Jedha._  Obliterated by the Empire for resources - they said it was a mining accident, but those in the Resistance knew better. It’s the same thing that’s starting up on Fest.

“What brings you here, then?” 

“I’m a photojournalist. I’m hoping to do for Fest what nobody did for Jedha.” When the photographer spots the creases riddling Cassian’s forehead, he adds: “Documentation. There isn’t any proof the Empire was hurting Jedha, you know. A picture’s worth a thousand words, all that. Like Vietnam, the photo-”

“Right. But what are you doing  _here_?”

“Oh. Well, I came to take photos of the protest, and then it kind of turned into a mess, so now I’m hiding.” The man eyes widen, dark lashes framing his expression. “Like you.”

“I was on my way out, actually.” Cassian works his jaw, mentally weighing his options. If the journalist was right and he  _was_  sympathetic, then - 

“Do you want me to help you out?”

The man’s eyes widen even further, beyond what Cassian thought was humanely possible. 

“Yes, please.”

“Alright.” Cassian sizes the man up, carefully checking for weapons or any suspicious looking recording devices. He doesn’t spot any.

“I’m Bodhi by the way,” Bodhi says, extending his free hand. Cassian doesn’t shake it, only looks at it warily.

“You can trust me, you know.”

“We’ll see about that,” Cassian says, but his voice has lost all semblance of distrust. 

For some inexplicable reason, Cassian wants to trust him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "modern au where they both like the same things and visit the same places and have the same friends but they've never met. cue jyn + co trying to set them up and get them to meet for the first time, but cassian is "too busy" with his job (a human rights advocate lawyer) and bodhi doesnt want a relationship (bc of a shitty ex maybe?)"

“Jyn-” 

“He doesn’t like coffee, either. A freak of nature just like you.”

“Jyn, there are plenty of people who hate coffee it’s not that-”

“Look, Han, the twins,  _and_  I all are actually agreeing on something for once. That’s a miracle, you hear me? So,” she sets down her glass on the table with a thud, and its contents slosh around the rim, “you better do this. Or else you’ll have the four of us breathing down your neck until you do.” She stares pointedly at Bodhi with one eyebrow raised, as if she was daring him to argue.

“I’d rather face you four than go on a date. With-” Bodhi falters, the name caught somewhere between his brain and his tongue.

“Cassian. His name’s Cassian, he’s a lawyer, and he’s into the exact same nerd stuff as you are. Like, if you date him, you don’t have to drag me or Luke around to all those conventions and book clubs-”

“I don’t go to book clubs!” Bodhi protests.

Jyn waves a hand. “Whatever. Premieres for random short films, then. Did you know he dragged Leia to the same one you took me to? Honestly, if I had known we would’ve forced you guys to sit together or something. Anyways.” Jyn picks up her glass and takes a drawn-out sip. “You two should date.” 

“But-” Bodhi’s laces his fingers around his cup, knuckles going pale under the strain. Jyn’s eyes drop to his hands, and her gaze softens.

“He’s a good person, Bo. Leia’s known him for ages, they were in all the same debate clubs and social justice organizations in uni. I trust her, and she says this will work out. And I think so too.” 

“Are you sure, I mean, you know what happened last time.” Bodhi frowns and hunches forward at the memory of his ex.  _That manipulative prick._

“Look, we’re not saying you and Cassian are identical, I mean, I can’t get you to shut up sometimes and I’ve never heard this guy say anything more than ‘hi, how are you?’, but you’re both single, and into the same things, and even  _I_ think he’s cute and I’m dating Leia so you know how much of a miracle  _that_  is.” Jyn idly traces the rim of her cup with her thumb. “I think you should try this out.”

Bodhi sucks in his breath.

Jyn doesn’t let go of his gaze.

“Alright,” he huffs.

“Really?” her eyes widen. “You’ll do it?”

“One date, okay?” 

Jyn bumps the edge of the table as she scoots across the booth, then swoops down to hug him.

“Great. I’ll see you later. He’s coming in five minutes.”

Bodhi chokes on his drink.


End file.
